


First Kiss

by Manysidesofmyself



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bromance, First Kiss, M/M, Thorki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manysidesofmyself/pseuds/Manysidesofmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor and Loki just got back from New York and in spite of what Loki might feel imprisioned in his glass cell, his brother has some different feelings towards what redemption means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> It's a bit worn out the first kiss thing, but I really don't appreciate to read things when the duo is presumably in love or already together. I enjoy beginnings, so here it goes...

Redemption. Such a sweet illusion cast upon a hopeless man, a simple shadow of inexistent love, pathetic wishful thinking.

Loki did not seek it now, but it still would stung him like a poisoned dart not to have it then. How childish and silly to have thought Odin could ever love a monstrosity as he was, never mind yielding him the throne of the golden palace.

He recalled the time, not very long ago, when Thor had asked him to come home. “Huh”, he chuckled quietly. He did not remembered what it was, much less recognized it now.

He was sitting placidly in his cell. Everything was arranged in order to make him feel comfortable. What a joke. As if a cushy mattress and a couple of books could give him any solace. As if any material delights could even begin to wipe out the slightest thread of memory from his endless tortures. Oh no, nothing in this universe could bring him comfort. Nothing material, at least.

He rested his head in the icy wall behind his bed. The cold never really bothered him and now he knew why. He smiled faintly, puerile remembrances dancing in his mind. He saw two young boys running through the frozen lake outside the palace. One of them would cringe and whine, clutching at his clothes for protection. The other, shoeless and cheerful, would walk languidly in the snow, burying his feet deep, careless. Mother would scold them for playing when it was cold, but Loki never fell sick, unlike Thor.

Now all those memories were feeble resemblances of the family he once had. They were pathetic and mendacious. He loathed them.

Loki heard the footsteps before the voice, but he didn’t even need any of them to know that Thor was coming today. He needn’t notice.

The loud, imperious strut of his brother was so familiar it sickened him. Not long before he heard them, there came the voice. Husky and thick as he remembered.

“Loki” he said in a casual tone, but Loki felt the hint of caution behind it. Thor wasn’t the big oaf he once was. He was calloused by Loki’s trickery and therefore, wiser.

Loki did not move his head nor opened his mouth to answer. His limbs felt heavy all of a sudden, as if his bones were turning into melted iron and his skin was made of crepe paper.

“Are you awake…?” was the careful question, coming from the other side of the cell. Two of the walls were covered with Seidr, unpassable, unbreakable, and Loki was stripped of his magic so there was nothing he could do to let Thor in or get himself out.

He turned his head only an inch, opaque green orbs searching unwillingly for the source of noise.

“Well,” Thor started, golden strands bouncing as he lowered his head in hesitation, too afraid to stare back into his brother’s eyes. “I have come here to talk to you.”

To that Loki widened his eyes. What in Hel could Thor have to say to him now?

Suddenly it occurred to him that maybe that broad, stiffened figure could be only an illusion, but then he remembered he had no power even to conjure a simple dream.

He coughed, straightened his back and tried to speak. “Yes?” was his hoarse response, turned into another question. How foreign his voice seemed to his own mind. He wondered how did it sound to Thor’s ears, so he turned his head fully, facing the blue-cloaked wall that was the thunder god. He realized, bitterly, how he had missed his brother’s large form, gangling in its greatness, but still intimidating, still drawing.

“I wish to speak to you privately.” said Thor, summoning two guards that had something in their hands Loki couldn’t quite make out. Surely it was Frigga’s work, because Thor’s body entered the enchanted wall easily, and once he was in, everything outside went silent. They were invisible to everyone else in the dungeons.

“What is it?” Loki demanded, body lying limp in the mattress, legs sprawled carelessly along with his arms. The picture was somewhat pitiful, but Thor restrained himself from reaching out and touching his brother’s shoulder.

They were close now, much closer than they had been in years.

“Are you well?” the thunderer asked, desperately forcing his voice to sound calm and disinterested, but Loki could easily pick up on his worry. Surprisingly, it warmed his insides.

“As well as one can be locked up in this litter.” he smirked sarcastically.

Thor held back a smile. He had missed Loki so painfully, so entirely that their reunion was not far from a balm to his frantic nerves.

“So, what is that you have to tell me?” Loki asked again, a faint irritation clouding his eyes. He detested to be played. Ironically.

Thor paced around him, much more at ease now that they had exchanged a few words and that those words were not as sharp as he had expected them to be.

“It’s almost my birthday and I talked to father…” he began, but was cut off by a hysterical laughter coming from the half-dead form of his brother.

“Have you come to invite me?” Loki sneered, face twisted with scorn.

Thor immediately regretted the decision, a vague whisper of his father’s words snoring inside his mind saying that he shouldn’t do it, he should let Loki be. But stubbornness was his middle name and Loki’s presence was something he could not abdicate. If only he knew how to express that without sounding comical.

“Do not laugh at me, brother. Yes, that is my purpose. I came here to invite you to my birthday feast…” again his words failed him and Loki took advantage.

“WHY?” he snarled, eyes glistening with rage.

Because I love you, he wanted to say. But love was not enough. At least not now that his brother was gone, lost somewhere inside that distant ghost, hollow and cold.

“Because I want you to come.” he admitted sheepishly, blue eyes darting everywhere except to his brother’s accusatory stare.

“PREPOSTEROUS!” Loki yelled, hands thrown in the air dramatically. “This is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said to me, Thor, and believe it, I have heard many idiotic nonsense coming from you!”

Loki scoffed, head thrown back, half-grinning, half-grimacing. It wasn’t funny at all, though, that his brother wanted his company. It wasn’t pathetic and hardly laughable. Oh no. His amusement came from his own twisted heart that dared to turn Thor’s request into something sweet and lovable, that dared to collect his words and switch them off into something unbelievable as love. He heard “I love you” behind Thor’s words and that made him laugh, but of himself.

Thor walked to where he stood, fists clenched forcefully, eyes wild with outrage. Unaware of his own acts, he grabbed Loki by the collar of his tunic, dragging his face closer to him, eyebrows joined and angry.

“No doubt I have mistaken myself by wanting your company.” he scowled, fingers gripping at the green fabric almost achingly. “You see nothing but your own pain.”

The accusation cut deep into the trickster’s wounds, spreading them open, unhealed and fresh as the day they were created.

He wanted to claw at Thor’s chest, rip it open and take his heart, but instead he felt his cheeks wet, eyes burning mercilessly.

Thor let him go immediately, sapphires melting in consideration and worry. All of his rage was gone once Loki started crying, his heart swelled with love he could no longer hide.

“Brother…” he breathed, cupping Loki’s face with calloused hands, gingerly brushing a thick thumb across a timid tear.

Loki swallowed hard, somehow serene, even with tears pouring down his tired eyes.

“Honestly, Thor, how could you possibly want my company to… anything?” he muttered under his breath, words too sharp to say aloud.

The thunderer shifted, towering over his brother protectively. He took a lock of Loki’s raven hair between his fingers and twisted it gently, then moved his hands to once again brush Loki’s cheek. He smiled, coyly, but truthfully.

“Because I love you.” he finally admitted.

He’s lying, Loki thought, he has to be. But Thor was incapable of lying and Loki knew that all too well, especially when it came to his feelings towards anyone. Especially when it came to Loki.

His emerald eyes shone brighter than ever, glistening hope and longing; something he tried to conceal within his soul for so many years, but now it laid openly between them, so vivid and apparent he could barely breathe.

Thor smiled widely because he had never seen Loki so thoroughly tangible and it made him feel alive in the most strange of ways. He wanted to do something about it, he wanted to savour that precious moment of honesty that was sadly rare to see in his brother’s features.

He was so dreadfully happy he let the wave of content wash over him, peeling him off his defenses and leading the way into unexplored territory. He wanted to taste that victory with his own lips, so he leaned forward, suddenly serious, eyes intensely staring back at Loki’s, his throat tight and his chest floating.

“What are you doing?” the trickster asked, not even a hint of mockery in his tone, only surprise.

But wasn’t it what Loki wanted, to be held amiably by Thor? Hadn’t he dreamt about this so many times before? But to have Thor’s breath mingled with his own, to have his lips partially opened and so close to his own… he had never been able to admitt loving Thor as a brother, how could he possibly think about admitting something more?

He gagged, unable to swallow, eyes blinking rapidly with anxiety. His tongue felt dry and heavy, lips trembling furiously.

No, this is not possible… he thought, but his body wouldn’t listen to the despondent whispers of his maniac mind. He craved Thor’s lips way too much to dodge from them when they were so majestically presented to him.

Thor didn’t bother offering an explanation for he thought his actions were plainly explicit and understandable. And they were, but not to Loki’s heart, not to his self-hating mind. He couldn’t possibly believe that Thor loved him the same way he had always loved Thor. It wasn’t real! It couldn’t be!

Slowly as he could manage Thor came closer, leaving Loki’s eyes only to stare tentatively at his lips. He breathed in heavily, taking in the glorious scent of that alabaster skin.

Loki threw his hand up, grabbing Thor’s wrist in a weak attempt to stop him. “Thor… this… this is not…” he vaguely declared, eyes barely remaining opened.

“Do not fight it, brother.” Thor pleaded, voice dripping desire. “I know you want this as much as I do…”

Loki mumbled something incoherent, a tiny moan escaping his expectant mouth and gave in. His lips were met with unbearably smooth ones. Smoldering, caressing, tasting. It was heaven and it could never be real. He knew now that he would remember that kiss as an impossible dream, as something that only a depraved mind could generate.

Redemption. Such a sweet illusion cast upon a hopeless man…


End file.
